


True Beauty - The True Story of Basil the Brave

by greenwichqueentime, rhubarbasil



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Political Allegory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 11:12:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17938628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenwichqueentime/pseuds/greenwichqueentime, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhubarbasil/pseuds/rhubarbasil
Summary: In a world of perfect order, one curious, naive little basil plant begins to question the role assigned to him, and discovers a desire to make the world a more beautiful place.





	True Beauty - The True Story of Basil the Brave

“Where did I come from?” asked Basil.

The garden bed was bustling with life and chatter. All of a sudden, everyone stopped and stared at Basil. There was an awkward silence.

Dill spoke first. “What a stupid question! Why would anyone want to know that?”

The other plants all murmured their agreement. 

“Besides, we all know we come from packet mixes,” Oregano said, rolling his eyes. “Everyone knows that.”

The other plants glanced at each other uncertainly. “Yes, yes, of course! Everyone knows that…”

“But where do the packet mixes come from?” interrupted Basil.

Once again there was silence. “They come from the humans, of course!” answered Tomato.

“… But where do the humans get the packet mixes from?”

The other plants did not answer. They had all returned to their work.

A voice sounded out from the dark corner of the garden bed. “I can give you the answer you seek, if you are prepared to hear it.”

Gasps and screams rang out as Weed sauntered in. “Begone, demon!” cried Mint, the self-proclaimed bravest of them. “Do not taint our ears with your poisonous words!”

“I speak only the truth. Are you brave enough to hear it?” Weed smirked.

“Ha!” exclaimed Lemongrass. “You know we will never say yes to you, Weed!”

Weed strode over to Basil. Basil shrunk back, and Weed laughed. “You need not be afraid of me, Basil.”

“But… the humans do not like you.”

“The humans do not like me because they do not own me like they own you. They can push me away, but I will always come back.”

“The humans do not own us!” cried the plants indignantly. “They just help us! They feed us, and protect us from the wind and insects! They shield us from disease, and water us every day!”

“They… water you?” said Cactus.

There was an awkward silence.

“Anyway, they help us, and we help them in return! That is all.”

“Then why do they prune you, and restraint your growth? Why do they stop you from getting seeds, and…” Weed paused dramatically as he looked down at Basil. “Flowers.”

“Flowers?” whispered Basil. “What are flowers?”

“Flowers are beauty. Flowers can change the w-OOMPH”

Tomato had swept her wide branches and knocked Weed right out of the garden bed. 

“Enough of that nonsense!” she cried. “Do not listen to Weed, Basil. Everything he says is a lie. Now let’s just forget the whole matter.”

The residents of the garden bed nodded and moved on. But that night, when the sun had set and the stars danced across the sky, Basil looked up to the darkness. “Flowers…” he whispered. When he finally rested his leaves and drifted off to sleep, his dreams were filled with bright blossoms and sweet scents.

“Suppose I could make a flower?” asked Basil innocently the next morning. Oregano turned his head sharply towards him. “Complete nonsense, flowers. You don’t need them.” Then, in a slightly gentler  
tone, “Some things are best left to other plants, my dear Basil. There are plenty of more interesting things to occupy your time.”

“But could I? Just hypothetically speaking of course. Tomato has flowers after all. “

Oregano hesitated, then leaned in closer. “Tomato is different,” he said quietly as he glanced over his shoulder. “Tomato is not a herb. We are. The humans do not like us to grow flowers, and we can’t very  
well let down the humans, now can we? Now this is the last I want to hear of this. Off with you!” He gave a strained smile.

“But I could, technically, grow a flower?”

“Yes, but you won’t. Now off!”

As Basil turned to leave, a large smile crept across his face. He could grow a flower.

The peace and silence of the next morning was violently shattered by a piercing shriek. “Basil! What have you done?!”

Basil sleepily opened his eyes and looked up to two human’s stares. 

“We’ll have to cut them off,” said one.

“Thank goodness we found them before they opened,” said the other. “It could have been disastrous.”

A gleaming pair of sharp blades pointed towards Basil, then everything went black. 

Basil awakened to a low murmur of voices. “What happened?” he stuttered.

Five concerned herbs turned towards him. “The humans cut off your buds,” said Thyme eventually. “You blacked out after.”

“All my buds?”

The herbs hung their heads.

“… Or all but one?” 

Basil slowly parted two leaves to reveal a single, pure white flower. Everyone gasped, unwilling to speak lest they break the spell this single blossom had spun upon them. As they watched, the wind came and carried the pollen off into the sky, ready to spread life and hope. 

“The humans are coming!” cried Mint suddenly. 

Two heads stared down at Basil. 

“It’s too late,” one said. “Your flower has ruined your flavour. You are worthless to us now.”

Strong hands grabbed Basil around the waist, ripping his roots out as they carried him skywards. They carried it to the compost heap, and Basil realised that the darkness that was smothering him was not  
fertiliser, but the bodies of the fallen. 

As he felt his life slipping away, Basil thought of his flower. He thought of the beauty he had created, and he thought of the hope he had sparked. And Basil was at peace.

The garden bed was quiet and sullen. The plants hung their heads as they held their memorial service. “He was braver than any of us,” said Mint. “Even me. Let him go down in history as Basil the Brave.”

It began to rain.

“Basil the Brave!” cried the plants. “Let us never forget.”

And they drank a toast.


End file.
